Baby Pie
by fehroohz
Summary: Taking care of baby Pinkie Pie isn't as easy or harmless as it seems! Written at school with and for a friend


**Hey! I wrote this at school with a friend...it's not really intended to be well written. Well, enjoy! **

**I of course, don't own MLP FiM**

Once upon a time I found a pony. It was pink. It was adorable, and it was still a filly. I picked her up and took her home. I named her Pinkie Pie. She was pink…and well, who doesn't like pie? Henceforth her name! Carrying on…so I took her home and put her on the couch. She kind of just looked at me. So I kind of just looked at her. And she just kept looking at me…so I kept looking at her. And then! Something happened. She cried. And screamed. And kicked my lamp off the table. It broke. I freaked out. I did not know what I should do with a crying pink pony. So I picked her up and tried to sing some stupid lullaby to get her to fall asleep. It did not work. She kicked me in the jaw. It was not fun. It hurt. So I put her back on the couch and went to the kitchen to get a bag of ice for my jaw. When I got to the fridge, I got an idea. (I did not know how good of an idea it was, but it didn't matter at the time) I opened the fridge and got the milk carton. I warmed it up and put it in a bottle to give to Pinkie. I tried feeding it to her, but she just spit it out on me. So, covered in pony spit, I walked back into the kitchen.

But I didn't give up yet! I tried chocolate milk this time. Following the same routine, I warmed it up and took it to Pinkie. When I tried feeding it to her, she grabbed the bottle and threw it at my head. It bounced off and spilt on the floor. Lovely.

But I had one last idea. I tried strawberry milk. Y'know, 'cause it's pink. So, crossing my fingers I took it to Pinkie. Half hiding behind the couch, hoping she wouldn't throw it at me, I handed her the bottle. She looked at it for a moment, and then started giggling. She grabbed it and drank the entire thing. Yay me! I was so happy so I took a seat next to her on the couch. When the bottle was empty, she tried to hurl it at me, but I was just quick enough to move out of the way. She was laughing at me. So I started laughing. And she kept laughing. And I kept laughing. And I really didn't know why we were laughing in the first place anymore. But, I just kept laughing because I guessed that a happy Pinkie was better than an angry Pinkie.

While thinking about this, I did not realize that Pinkie Pie had climbed onto my lap and was looking very closely at my face. I truly didn't know what she was thinking, but she bit me right on the nose. I yelled. She yelped in surprise and fell back onto the other side of the couch. I was holding my now bloody nose, and she looked up at me with big watery sky blue eyes, and, you guessed it…she started sniffling, then let out a loud wail. She was crying and crying and rolling around. But, being in my not-so-pleasant state of being, I ran to the restroom to tend to my nose. It didn't look so bad after I cleaned it, and just before I left the bathroom, my eye caught something little and yellow. A rubber duck. Hmm…why don't I remember having this? Oh well, salvation from crying ponies comes in many different forms.

So, I picked it up and walked back out into the living room, intending to give it to Pinkie. But when I looked over at the couch, Pinkie Pie wasn't there! I squeezed the rubber duck and I threw it on the ground. I quickly started shuffling through the pillows and somewhere along the way I stepped in the chocolate milk puddle on the floor and slipped. (very dramatically if I do say so, myself) I hit my head. This is so not my day. But I was on a mission, so I got up and continued to search for the pink bundle of trouble.

After what felt like hours of searching, (even though it had really only been around 5 minutes) I was starting to lose hope. Thirsty, tired, and in pain, I walked to the fridge to get a cool glass of tea. I opened the door…and there it was! No, dear reader, not the tea; but Pinkie Pie! In my refrigerator…sitting in a pie…eating it. I should've known. I kind of just looked at her. When she finally noticed me, she giggled and jumped out of the fridge managing to trip me before I could grab her. I thought to myself that this little pony would be the death of me.

Getting up, I stealthily followed her into the living room where she was inspecting the rubber duck I had recently thrown to the floor. Ever so quietly, I crawled up behind her and lunged (in slow motion, of course) at her. I was able to grab hold of her, but lost my grip because she was covered in gooey pie stuff that made her all slippery. Dang it. She got away again. I sat up, and when she giggled at me; almost challenging to try to capture again…I felt very defeated. So I did the only thing I could do…

I cried. I just sat there, covered in pony spit and nose blood and pie, and cried. I felt like an idiot, but that was probably because I was an idiot. But at the time, I couldn't care less. I felt like if I couldn't handle a baby pink pony, than I would never be able to handle anything in my life. Somewhere between my cries and thoughts, Pinkie had wandered over to me with the rubber duck in her mouth. With my cries starting to get quieter, I looked at her and she squeaked the duck and set it in my lap. Then, she climbed into my arms and fell asleep like a curly-haired pink angel. I stopped crying, and realized that Pinkie acted like any normal little child would, and I decided right then that I wanted to keep her forever.


End file.
